There is nothing of you
until someone; you don’t know who
makes you bloom
the warm sky shines on your bare bark
planted under he silver moon
covering and protecting the city park
but then
the tropic air becomes brisk, like a high up cliff, you don’t want to risk
you leaf-like happiness falling to the ground
the ground was painted in red, orange, and bright yellow
and your forlorn bark was colored dark grey all round
until
the sun in your eyes brightens the day
for ones who are near you, and those who are far away
your leaves shimmering green
the trunk of you, bigger than the eyes have seen
tree and leaf, like hand and hand
they all believe in me
and I can happily say, “I agree.”
Gorzycki Middle School
7